


The Next Chapter

by halcyon1993



Series: Smouldering Hearts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Derek, BAMF Stiles, Beta Scott McCall, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Come Eating, Consent Issues, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Everybody Lives, Fluff and Angst, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Honeymoon, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Knotting, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Major Illness, Making Love, Married Life, Multiple Orgasms, Old Friends, Oral Sex, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek Hale, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Top Derek Hale, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-03 15:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: Four years down the line, the pack comes back together after college for Derek and Stiles' wedding. Soon into married life, an old friend of Derek's from his New York days gets back in touch with him. They reconnect, but not everything with her and her mate is as it seems. When the visiting couple disappears, they leave Derek and Stiles with more than they bargained for. As the newlyweds try to deal with the upheaval and investigate the disappearance, they suspect that Derek's friend was running from something. But what? And is that something after them now?





	1. Reintegration

**Author's Note:**

> **20/2/18: Due to depleted inspiration, this fic is has been put on hiatus for the foreseeable future. I will finish it at some point, but I'm not sure when. In the mean time, I'll be posting other Sterek fics.**
> 
> It's been almost two years since I've added anything to this series, so I'd say this third part has been overdue for a while, wouldn't you? To those of you who haven't read the first two parts of this series, I'd recommend you do that first because a lot of things in this fic won't make sense otherwise. I don't know how long this is going to be, but I'd estimate somewhere between 100,000-150,000 words. Also, there'll still be the occasional sex scene, but you should expect less smut than in Part 2. Enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to my beta [Tom_Webb](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tom_Webb) for correcting my mistakes.

_\- Friday, August 11th, 2017 -_

Stiles sits in the passenger seat of Derek's Camaro, both of them on their way to pick Lydia and Jackson up from the airport. As his mate drives, Stiles exchanges jocular insults with Erica and Isaac via text. Over the past few years, he has grown even closer to the two betas than he used to be. They were three of the few members of the pack who didn't go out of state for college—they never even left town, in fact—and as soon as they graduated from high school, Erica and Isaac happily moved right into the Hale house with Stiles and Derek. It took a bit of getting used to, having more people in the house, but none of them would have it any other way now.

"What time does their flight get in again?" Stiles asks Derek without looking up from his phone.

"8:45," the alpha replies. He taps his fingers along to the song playing on the radio, some piece of sugary pop he doesn't know but can admit is catchy. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if it takes a while for them to get to the gate, knowing how these things usually go."

"True," Stiles agrees, nodding.

"You're impatient, huh?"

"Yup."

Stiles locks his phone, his conversations with Erica and Isaac having tapered off, shoves it in the pocket of his beige chinos and instead stares at the passing scenery. The drive to the airport isn't a long one, but because he's only done it a couple of times in the past that he can remember, it's still new enough to hold his interest.

He can't wait to see Lydia and Jackson again. It's been over a year since they were last able to get together in person during one of their overlapping college breaks. Lydia and Jackson travelled the farthest distance out of everybody in order to advance their educations, choosing to go abroad to England and study at the University of Oxford. To no one's surprise, they immediately got accepted thanks to their impeccable grades, and while Stiles was sad to see them go—even Jackson—he was also happy that they got to go where they wanted.

The transition was incredibly difficult. After almost two full years of being a tight-knit pack all living in the same town, adapting to suddenly being spread so far apart was a lengthy process for everyone. Nobody else went overseas, but that didn't mean they weren't all missed just as much by those who stayed behind in Beacon Hills.

Derek found it particularly hard, his alpha wolf not understanding why the betas were suddenly so far away. This lead to an immeasurable amount of sleepless nights, but the situation got easier to cope with over time. Stiles thinks the tipping point was when those who remained in Beacon Hills banded together even tighter in an effort to make up for those who were missing.

Scott, Isaac, Cora, Erica and Boyd all joined Stiles in attending the college closest to them, the commute to which was luckily short enough for them to return home every evening without too much hassle. Stiles doesn't know what he and Derek would have done if things hadn't worked out that way, but he supposes Derek would have come with him if he'd had to find other accommodations near campus. His mate is selfless like that.

In the end, Stiles came away with a degree in Biological Sciences, which he plans on using to help him with his emissary duties.

Scott continued his veterinary training, with help from Deaton.

Isaac is well on his way to becoming a social worker, inspired by his own troubled teenage years to seek out other injustices and put them right the way no one did for him before Derek.

Kira and Allison, with the help of Allison's father, skipped college altogether and opened a self-defence dojo that teaches a multitude of courses. Stiles has taken several of them, miraculously without grievously injuring himself.

Boyd, after going to Jordan Parrish for advice, is the newest deputy in the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department.

Cora chose to pursue a career in creative writing and is using the pack's many 'adventures' as inspiration for a series of books.

Like Kira and Allison, Danny didn't pursue further education and instead uses his legendary hacking skills to land himself freelance work for various companies and political forces he can't talk about with his packmates.

Erica took the longest to decide. She vacillated for a while on which career path she should take, before finally concluding a year after everyone else had already started theirs that she would become a kindergarten teacher. The choice came as a shock to everyone else, but they quickly realised she was serious and admitted that her effortlessly cool demeanour and sassy attitude would probably make her popular with her future students.

Lydia continued in Advanced Mathematics, and Jackson went into Mechanics.

The couple are the last two pack members to return to Beacon Hills. The others are all gathered back at the Hale house, waiting for their family of misfits to be made whole again for the first time in years.

Stiles looks down at his left hand and smiles as he fiddles with the engagement ring on his finger. After Derek had popped the question on Christmas Day four years ago, Stiles had sat dumbfounded for so long that the alpha had started to second-guess himself. When he'd seen the expression on Derek's face, Stiles had quickly gotten himself together and accepted the proposal with glee. The ring has been in place on his finger ever since, a constant reminder of Derek's love for him.

The ring is simple but beautiful. It consists of two matte-finished black bands on either side of a titanium stripe, and there is small triskelion engraved on the inside. It's been Stiles' pride and joy ever since he slipped it on, and the knowledge that there will be another ring on his finger in just two days' time has him practically vibrating with excitement.

That is why the pack has come back together again; for the wedding.

"You're quiet," Derek notes.

He glances to his right after Stiles murmurs his assent and smiles to himself when he sees where he younger man's attention is focused. He knows just where Stiles' mind is, and if he wasn't driving he knows he would get lost thinking about the same thing. His emotions have gotten more and more intense over the past few weeks as the wedding gets closer, a potent mixture of anxiousness, exhilaration and love which makes it difficult to think about anything else sometimes. Really, he's the impatient one in the car. He can't wait to be married to Stiles and begin the next stage of their lives together; as husbands as well as mates.

"What's got you so quiet?" Derek enquires.

"I'm just looking forward to everyone being together again," Stiles replies, leaning his elbow on the rim of the window and resting his head in his palm. "I can't believe how long it's been since it was all of us. So much has changed."

"It has."

Stiles' powers have grown even further, and he has somehow maintained his control over them with considerable effort. Deaton has quit as his teacher because, as he put it, he had nothing left to teach. The town itself has been quiet; with Elizabeth's demise, the power of the Nemeton—which had acted as a literal beacon after it was once again awoken, drawing more and more supernatural entities to Beacon Hills for the pack to face—had also died, leaving things unusually calm. In the years since Elizabeth was killed, they haven't faced a single new foe.

That isn't to say they've become complacent, though. No, despite the pack being scattered across the globe, they still kept on top of their training as much as they were able, overseen by Derek during weekly check-ins via Skype. Stiles is interested to see just how much everyone has improved.

Both he and Derek made the decision shortly after getting engaged that they would wait until after Stiles graduated from college to actually get married. The time seems to have raced past much faster than Stiles had anticipated, and it's intimidating to think that the wedding is so close.

He doesn't have a case of cold feet or anything—he's nervous, sure, but the feeling is born from excitement rather than fear. It's more that his life seems to be flying by so quickly and he wants to slow it down so that he can truly savour and enjoy it. He's twenty-two years old, and he knows that, before he can fathom it, his twenties will be over and he'll be moving into his thirties, like Derek had done last January.

The thought is a little terrifying, so Stiles shakes his head and stops ruminating over something that's out of his control. He looks up just in time to see the airport coming into view.

Derek navigates the Camaro through the car park and finds an empty space in one of the back corners. "Okay, we've got about fifteen minutes," he says.

"Drink?" Stiles asks, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Sure."

Together they walk into the airport's main building and scan the various stores and fast food chains that are in the area. Once they have picked one, ordered their respective beverages and have them in hand, they take seats on either side of a small table. Stiles opted for hot chocolate, which he sips with small noises of pleasure, whereas Derek went for black coffee.

The werewolf gets out his phone and places it face-up on the table between them. "Lydia said she'll text when they're ready."

* * *

In the end, the two mates wait for half an hour before Derek's phone lights up. The alpha is nursing his second cup of coffee by this point, and he quickly downs the rest before snapping up his device and getting to his feet. "You good?" he asks his mate, smoothing out his leather jacket.

"Yup," Stiles replies, popping the P.

The gate is teeming with the families of the other people on the flight, whom Derek pushes through until he and Stiles reach the front. The crowd parts easily because of the beard, the leather jacket and the sour look on his face, which he only wears to get them to do just that. As soon as they are in prime position to watch the arrivals, Derek's face clears again and he just looks tired but otherwise content, especially when Stiles slips a hand in his. The younger man shuffles in place next to him, eager for the last reunion of the summer.

They wait in silence as the first few passengers disembark and start appearing. More and more come through the doors, but none of them are who Derek and Stiles want. It seems typical for Lydia and Jackson to be the last two people to come into view, but eventually—and before Derek knows it—Stiles is shooting across the floor toward his friends.

"Lydia!" the human yells happily. He nearly knocks the banshee off of her feet with the force of his hug, but she somehow manages to keep them both standing.

After he feels Lydia pat him awkwardly on the back, Stiles pulls away and gets a better look at her. She is dressed in a plain white blouse, a comfy but stylish chocolate-brown cardigan, a pair of dark-blue high-waisted jeans and clean white trainers, all likely from a bunch of designer labels. For the most part she looks the same, just slightly dressed down for her flight, but one difference is immediately apparent—the long strawberry-blonde hair that Stiles had admired for years is considerably shorter, cut to just above her shoulders now.

"Nice hair," Stiles comments, flicking it. Lydia bats his hand away with a scowl, so he cocks his hip to the right and shoves his hands in his pockets, going for casual. "It'll take some getting used to, but I like it. When did you get it done?"

"Yesterday," Lydia answers, "for the wedding." She smirks, adjusting the carryon on her shoulder.

"Oh. That's cool."

Stiles doesn't know what else to say, so he turns away from the girl and tunes in to Derek and Jackson's conversation. He chuckles to himself when he realises that the two werewolves are bickering—about what he doesn't know, but that doesn't stop him from being amused. He steps closer and puts a hand on Derek's arm, snapping the alpha out of whatever heated debate he'd been having with his beta.

"You done?" Stiles asks, grinning when Derek nods and the tips of his ears turn pink. "Alrighty, to baggage claim!"

* * *

It's closing in on ten o'clock at night by the time they get to Beacon Hills.

Derek is the only one in the car who doesn't actively participate in the discussion in the car, choosing instead to just drive and listen as Stiles fills Lydia and Jackson in on everything that has changed about Beacon Hills since they were last there. The couple look out of their windows as Stiles talks, observing the changes he mentions. A couple of the storefronts on the main street are new, and they don't recognise a lot of the cars in the driveways as Derek takes them through the series of familiar residential streets that leads to the other side of town; to the outskirts and the preserve and, eventually, to the pack house.

"I can't believe we're back," Lydia comments, glancing sideways at Jackson.

"Me neither," the beta agrees. "It's weird."

"Nice, though."

Soon enough, Derek turns up the road that leads to the Hale house and all talking cuts off as the large building comes into view. The outside still looks the same, albeit with more cars parked out front—Derek is glad to see that everyone remembered to leave free his space next to Stiles' matching blue Camaro—but both Lydia and Jackson know that the same can't be said about the inside.

They haven't seen the place in a long time, but they're aware that it houses more people than it used to. Neither one of them has decided if they'll join Erica and Isaac in moving in there or if they'll get their own place, but they're not worried; they have time, and they know their room will always be available whatever they decide.

Stiles and Derek help Jackson and Lydia with their bags, carrying them to the front door. When they reach it, it is opened by Isaac, who is shaking with the excitement that comes from seeing his packmates again. He manages to wait until everyone is inside and the bags have been set down to accost Lydia in a similar manner to Stiles. The banshee pats him good-naturedly on the back before foisting him off on Jackson, who shoots her a disgruntled look over Isaac's shoulder.

"I missed you guys," Isaac says as he releases Jackson. "Never go away for so long again, okay?"

"We'll try not to," Lydia assures. "Where are the others?"

"Waiting in the living room."

"And you couldn't wait with them?" Derek asks his beta, one eyebrow raised.

"No…" Isaac says bashfully.

Stiles smacks his mate lightly on the arm. "Sourwolf, stop picking on the puppy!" he chastises jokingly.

Derek ignores Stiles and addresses Lydia and Jackson instead. "C'mon, you two. Let's get all the hugs and stuff out of the way so we can all go to bed. I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, you both look it," Jackson comments tactlessly.

"You try planning a wedding," Stiles defends with a pout. "It's not easy."

Lydia rolls her eyes and scoffs. "You should've waited until I got back then."

"No thanks."

The redhead glares at him. "Why not?"

Stiles' eyes go wide, caught out. "Uhh…"

"I think he was afraid of you taking everything over," Isaac surmises helpfully—or unhelpfully, in Stiles' opinion.

"Well that's just rude," Lydia says, smacking Stiles on the arm, too. "I'm not that bad!"

"Maybe not anymore," the human concedes.

Isaac smirks. "It's not like you did the bulk of the work anyway."

"He didn't?" Lydia frowns.

"Nope. Some, maybe, but Melissa, Erica and Danny helped him out _a lot_."

The redhead and looks askance at Stiles. "Is that so?"

"Maybe…" the human admits, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Fine. I'm sure it will suffice then."

"How generous of you. It's not even your wedding," Stiles points out, narrowing his eyes.

"Still."

"I thought you said you weren't that bad?"

With a roll of her eyes, Lydia waves her hand dismissively in Stiles' direction. "Whatever."

Thankfully, the discussion drops there as they enter the living room and find the rest of the pack waiting for them. Lydia and Jackson are passed around to everybody before squeezing themselves onto one of the sofas, the former in the latter's lap.

"I love your hair, Lydia," Kira says kindly.

"Thank you," the other girl replies, twirling a lock around her index finger.

While the others all talk amongst themselves, Stiles and Derek drift into the kitchen to prepare drinks and snacks for everyone. When they return carrying a tray of refreshments each, Stiles is unsurprised to hear that the pack has moved on to talking once more about his and Derek's impending wedding. It's the topic on everybody's lips, it seems—not that Stiles can blame them, since it's about ninety percent of what he has thought about over the past few months. He sets his tray down on the coffee table, picks up a scone for himself and then waits for Derek to wedge himself into a seat. Only then does he take one himself, choosing the best one in the world, in his opinion.

"So, are you guys excited?" Lydia asks them.

"Very," Stiles grins, wrapping his arm around his mate's shoulders and kissing his temple.

"And Derek? What about you?"

"I guess," the alpha murmurs, looking down.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"I can't believe it's only two days away," Erica says, in awe.

"Me neither," Scott adds. "My best friend is getting married. Who'd have thunk it?"

Stiles throws his half-eaten scone at Scott's head. "Hey!"

"What? Back in high school, did you ever think that, out of all of us, you and Derek would be the first ones getting married?" the beta defends.

"Mmm…I suppose not."

"Exactly, so quit throwing shit at me."

"We'll see."

"Who do you think's gonna be next?" Erica asks the room, her expression mischievous.

Lydia looks pointedly at Jackson, who goes bug-eyed and sputters nonsensical excuses as to why it won't be them.

The banshee tuts and pats Jackson's chest consolingly. "Relax, I'm just teasing. I still have loads I plan to do before letting you ask me to marry you."

"Oh, thank God." Jackson's words are filled with so much relief that everyone laughs at him. Even Derek cracks a smile.

"My money's on you and Boyd, actually," Allison chips in from her position in between Scott and Kira. She stares at Erica. "Maybe once you've settled into a teaching job at the kindergarten or something and Boyd has settled into being a deputy."

Boyd's reaction is a lot calmer than Jackson's. He simply shares a glance with his mate and looks contemplative. "Maybe," he says, not at all freaked out by the thought of tying the knot.

"See, Jacks? _That's_ how you react to that," Danny jokes, pressed up against Isaac.

"Shut it, Mahealani…" the other boy sighs.

"Someone's gotta keep your ego in check, and not even Lydia can do it all by herself."

The pack talks and laughs and reminisces with each other for another hour before things finally wind down. Stiles is flagging by then, his head leant tiredly against Derek's and his eyes drooping. When it comes time to say goodbye to those who are going back to their own homes, he manages to scrape together enough energy to get up for a round of hugs and see them all outside to their vehicles, but by the time that is done, so is he.

"C'mon," Derek says softly, not missing the state of his mate. "Let's get you to bed."

Stiles allows himself to be lead up the stairs and to their bedroom. It hasn't changed much over the years, has just gotten a bit more cluttered as they accumulated more possessions. When Derek shuts the door, Stiles gets a glimpse of both of their pressed suits hung up on the back of it, each in its own dry cleaning bag to protect it from dirt and dust until the big day.

Thanks to an idea that came from Danny, Stiles knows what his own suit looks like but not Derek's, and the opposite is true in his mate's case. Stiles feels a thrill at the sight of them and is for a moment tempted to sneak a peek at Derek's suit then and there. But, like every other time he has felt that same temptation, he fights it off, wanting to get the full impact when he first sees Derek dressed in it during the ceremony in a couple of days.

Tearing his eyes away from the suits, Stiles heads into the en suite bathroom, where he brushes his teeth, makes quick use of the facilities and strips out of his clothes. He tosses them in the direction of the laundry hamper, not caring that his underwear ends up hanging over the rim, and looks at himself in the mirror before exiting.

Derek is waiting for him patiently, sitting on the edge of the bed with two clean pairs of pyjama bottoms folded up in his lap. When the alpha gives his naked body an appreciative once-over, Stiles jumps into a goofy strongman pose and waggles his eyebrows, making Derek roll his eyes at him. The alpha stands up and hands Stiles one of the pairs of pyjama bottoms before taking his own turn in the bathroom to get ready to go to sleep. Stiles slides the soft, thin garment up his legs and switches off the light before approaching the bed.

Once both mates are snugly beneath the sheets, Stiles curls into Derek's side and rests his cheek upon his chest. "So…now that we're alone," he says quietly, stroking his fingers through Derek's chest hair, "how are you _really_ feeling about Sunday?"

The werewolf takes a breath. "Honestly?"

"Yup."

"I'm excited, but I'm also eager to get it over with."

Humming, Stiles presses his lips to Derek's pec and resettles his head. "I get that," he says. "I don't think I could handle a huge wedding like you see all time in movies and TV. I'm glad we went for something smaller."

"Me, too…"

"Just think, though—in under two days' time, we'll be husbands!"

Derek wraps his arm around Stiles' back and pulls him closer, "Now that part I _am_ looking forward to."

"Well, we just have to get through the last-minute preparations tomorrow," Stiles reassures, his tiredness again creeping up on him and making his speech low and slightly slurred, "and then the ceremony itself, and then we'll be official in terms of werewolf _and_ human law. I think the stress will be worth all of that, don't you?"

"I suppose you're right."

"Just think of the honeymoon. Two whole weeks…just you, me, and no cares."

Derek shakes beneath him with a silent chuckle. "Think of the sex," the alpha adds.

"Not planning on letting me leave the bed, huh?"

"Maybe to eat, if you can walk when I'm through with you."

"And then it's right back to…to…"

Stiles doesn't finish the thought, his eyes finally slipping closed. The last thing he feels before he is out is Derek's lips on his forehead.


	2. Confluence

_\- Sunday, August 13th, 2017 -_

The day of Stiles and Derek's wedding dawns sunny and warm. It's the perfect weather for the occasion, and Stiles stands at his bedroom window and takes it all in for several minutes once he has left the comfort of the bed and Derek's arms. Said alpha slumbers on behind him because they still have about half an hour before they have to get up, but Stiles can't sleep.

He stares at the clear blue sky above the treetops and is unable to stop his mind from drifting to his parents. He wishes they were there to share this important milestone with him; to walk him down the aisle, even. He glances back at his beautiful mate and supposes that this is something they have in common. Stiles doesn't have any blood relatives left to perform the duty and Derek only has one in his younger sister. Melissa McCall had graciously accepted the role in John's stead when Stiles had asked her, and he is incredibly grateful for her generosity, but it just won't be the same.

Shaking his head to rid himself of such sad thoughts, Stiles forces himself to focus on the good of the day, of which there is a lot.

Stepping away from the window, he tucks the bedsheets tighter around his dozing mate and leaves the room. Erica and Isaac aren't awake yet either, so Stiles is alone as he traipses down to the ground floor and on into the kitchen to make a start at preparing breakfast. The kitchen is full of stuff for the wedding. Along the side there are boxes of decorations that have yet to be put up in the backyard and next to them is the white, three-tiered wedding cake, which is big enough that Stiles doubts even the wolves can polish it off in one sitting.

The clutter makes gathering together the ingredients for pancakes and bacon a bit difficult, but Stiles manages and, by the time he hears movement upstairs, he is placing four full plates around the island.

Isaac is the first one to appear, dressed like Stiles in just a pair of pyjama bottoms. He rubs tiredly at his eyes as he takes a stool and accepts the fork Stiles gives him. "Thanks, mom," he mumbles, the nickname making the human roll his eyes.

"Sure thing, puppy."

Erica is next to appear in a baggy grey sweater and black boyshorts, her wavy hair tied up in a messy bun atop her head. She groans when she spots her breakfast and begins shovelling it in her mouth without once taking her eyes away from it. "Moving in here was the best decision I ever made, I swear…" she says between bites, a sentiment that Isaac agrees with with a nod.

Stiles chuckles at the pair and makes a start at his own breakfast just as a third set of footsteps can be heard coming down the stairs. Derek enters the room and shuffles immediately over to the coffee maker to pour himself a cup, but Stiles leans over and grabs his wrist before he can pull a clean one out of the cupboard. The alpha blinks blearily at him for a moment before he notices the full cup of steaming coffee already awaiting him next to his plate of pancakes.

"Oh," Derek says, taking the stool beside Stiles and gratefully sipping the brown liquid.

"So…today's the big day," Erica comments, her brain now unclouded from sleep. She grins slyly, her eyes darting between Derek and Stiles.

"Exciting times," Isaac adds, glancing at the decorations on the side.

"When do the others start getting here?" Erica asks the couple.

Stiles munches on a strip of crispy bacon and hums. "Everyone should be here in…" he checks the time on the microwave, "about four hours. They're gonna help finish setting everything up and get us ready. Then the other few guests should arrive at around 4."

"And the ceremony's at 4:30, right?"

"Right."

Erica smiles. "I'm so happy for you guys. You really deserve this."

"Thanks, Catwoman," Stiles says, looking bashfully down at the remnants of his breakfast.

* * *

"No, no, no! These aren't supposed to be here!" Lydia shrieks hours later. With the hand not currently clutching a clipboard, she picks up a white freesia from where it lies on one of the long tables positioned on the left side of the expansive backyard. Her short hair is pinned elegantly back from her face and her full-length green dress flows like water around her feet as she spins around in search of the culprit of the misplaced flowers. Her eyes alight on where Scott, Boyd and Jackson are trying to get the garden arch they'd rented to stand stably in the grass and she storms over to them.

"Why aren't these flowers in vases?" Lydia demands to know, glaring at the boys.

"Wha—?" Scott responds dumbly, not understanding.

"These flowers; they're supposed to be in vases equidistant from each other on the tables!"

"It's alright, Lydia," Boyd says calmly, ever the voice of reason. "Erica is searching for the vases now."

"Well she'd better hurry it up if we want to stay on schedule!"

"Relax, Red, I'm right here," Erica says, appearing at Lydia's side in a dress identical to the banshee's in all but colour. Hers is a deep maroon, matching her lipstick. Isaac is with her, and they each carry a couple of the aforementioned white vases, tall, elegant things with gold accents. Erica places hers next to the freesias and, while Isaac makes a start at arranging the flowers, she turns back to Lydia with a smirk. "I see it didn't take you long to take charge."

Lydia huffs. "I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly for Stiles' big day. Is that a crime?"

"Not at all," Erica concedes. "I just wonder what happened to the claim you made the night you got back about not being such a control freak anymore."

"I'll start tomorrow."

Erica laughs. "I'll hold you to that."

"Fine. Now help Isaac with the flowers, please. We don't have long."

Lydia checks off the flowers on her clipboard, leaves the back garden and reenters the house to check up on how everything is going in there. In the kitchen, the caterers Derek had hired are working tirelessly to make sure all the food is ready for the reception, so she moves on into the living room. Allison, Kira and Danny are in the middle of unpacking hundreds of feet of white fairy lights on the sofas, which will be wrapped around the trees on the outskirts of the backyard and hung up in neat rows above the whole space, providing light for when the sun goes down in the evening.

"Are they all there?" Lydia asks them, pen poised over her clipboard.

"They seem to be," Danny replies, not looking up from the tangle of wires in his lap.

"Good."

Another thing checked off of her list, Lydia proceeds into the foyer and up the stairs, where the grooms should be getting ready in separate rooms. She bypasses Isaac and Danny's bedroom where Derek will be dressing and stops in front of the closed door to the master suite. "Stiles? Can I come in?" she calls through the wood.

Something hits the floor inside and then the door is pulled open by a flustered-looking Stiles. "Yeah, sure," he says.

Once the boy has stepped aside, Lydia enters the room and takes in the state of him. His white trousers are on and his belt buckled, but his matching suit jacket is still lying on the bed with his tie, his hair is a complete mess and his black shirt isn't buttoned at all. "You should probably hurry up," Lydia says, placing her clipboard on top of the dresser.

"I'm trying," Stiles whines, beginning to button his shirt.

"God, you're so useless sometimes." Lydia sighs and bats Stiles' hands out of the way so she can do the buttons up herself. When that is done, she steps back and raises her eyebrow at him. "Can you take it from here or do I need to tuck it in and tie your tie for you as well?" she asks judgementally.

"You're kinda bitchy this morning…" Stiles complains, looking away from the banshee. "I thought _I_ was supposed to be the high-strung one today."

"Whatever. Just speed it up, okay?"

Soon, when Stiles has managed to get his tie tied correctly and has his suit jacket on, Lydia orders him to sit at the foot of the bed and searches the room for the matte hairstyling wax she had bought him for the day. She finds it sitting on the edge of the bathroom sink and brings it back out into the bedroom. "You'd better be singing my praises after I'm finished working my magic on you…" she grumbles. She gets a small piece of the wax on her index finger and gives the pot to Stiles to hold so that she can smear the stuff all over her palms.

"Don't I always sing your praises?" Stiles counters, keeping obediently still.

"It's been a while."

Stiles' response is dripping with sarcasm. "Well, I'll make sure to pencil that in somewhere. My schedule's pretty jam-packed for a while, though, what with getting married and all. Hope you understand."

The corner of Lydia's mouth twitches as she runs her fingers through the boy's hair to get it to stick up in the precise way she wants. It takes a while, but eventually she manages to wrangle the strands under control, the back and sides lying flat and the front and top swept up in a small, elegant quiff that droops slightly to the left.

"There, you're done," Lydia says, going into the bathroom to wash her hands.

"So now what?"

"Now you stay here and wait patiently," Lydia replies, drying her hands on the fluffy white towel that is hung up across a bar screwed onto the wall. "I'll come get you when it's time, and I don't want you bumping into your husband-to-be before then." Exiting the bathroom, she picks her clipboard back up, exits the room and shuts the door again without waiting for Stiles to acknowledge her command. On her way past Danny and Isaac's bedroom, she knocks on the door and checks on Derek, too—just in case.

"You almost done in there?"

"Almost," comes Derek's gruff reply, so Lydia keeps going.

Downstairs again, she purses her lips when she sees the others still untangling strings of fairy lights. She is about to make a comment on it but then Danny glares at her and she decides not to. Instead she glares in kind and hopes that the message to get a move on comes across loud and clear. That done, she gets the time from the clock on the wall and double-checks the guest list on her clipboard. When she sees that it's past the time when one of them should have arrived, she frowns and leaves the room to make a private call.

* * *

Half an hour later, Stiles is finally let out of the master bedroom by a much calmer Lydia. He goes downstairs and finds the rest of the house is basically deserted, his packmates having already taken their places outside in the backyard with the other guests. The only people who remain indoors apart from him and Lydia are the caterers in the kitchen and, Stiles presumes, Derek still upstairs in Danny and Isaac's bedroom, where he waits for when it's time for him to be retrieved as well.

Lydia brings Stiles to the back door, where Melissa is ready for him.

The nurse's dress is the same as Lydia's—all the female members of the wedding party have the same ones, Stiles knows—only hers is navy-blue. She gives him an encouraging smile. "You ready for this, kiddo?" she asks, hugging him tightly.

Stiles returns it with enthusiasm. "After four years, hell yeah, I am," he replies.

"Don't come out until you hear the music," Lydia says before departing. She is quick to shut the door so that Stiles can't peek.

Stiles' whole body vibrates with anticipation, everything seeming louder to his ears as he strains to pick up even a single musical note. Melissa links their arms together preemptively so that they are ready to go and looks at him knowingly, unable to wipe the proud smile off of her face. The gratefulness Stiles felt for Melissa when she agreed to do this comes back all over again, his mind briefly going the same places they had gone that morning. The woman is like a second mother to him, after all, and since neither of his actual parents can be there to perform the task themselves, Stiles is glad it's Melissa doing it instead.

What feels like years later, Stiles finally hears the music. His lungs seeming to turn to stone, he struggles to draw air into them as Melissa helpfully urges him forward, acting as the support he apparently needs to actually get moving. She opens the door for them, and then she and Stiles are stepping outside into the sunshine with around twenty faces staring at them.

Stiles is surprised by how daunting it is to walk down the aisle. Where the nerves came from, he doesn't know—he didn't feel like this even a minute ago—but, as Melissa keeps him going, he just makes himself think of Derek and how much he really does want to be married to him. He doesn't see anything else until he reaches the end of the aisle, where the wedding party all stands together with Alan Deaton, the officiant. Melissa leaves Stiles' side to take one of the two empty white lawn chairs which have been positioned in two blocks of twelve, with the aisle running down the gap in the middle.

Stiles shares a look with Scott and then Derek is there and he can't breathe all over again.

He doesn't even see Cora, all others fading away at the sight of his mate walking toward him. Derek's suit is traditional, crisp and sharp, expertly tailored to every muscle of his tall frame. The colours are the opposite of Stiles'. The shirt is a blinding white and the trousers, suit jacket and thin tie are all black. Derek has trimmed his beard since Stiles last saw him that morning, neatened it up, and his dark hair is styled similarly to his. He is the definition of dapper.

"Wow…" Stiles gapes, causing his friends to laugh good-naturedly.

Derek smiles at him almost shyly, his eyes shining. When the wolf is standing in front of Stiles and Cora has stepped back to join her brother's side of the wedding party with Boyd and Isaac, Stiles keeps staring at his mate and is distantly aware of Deaton speaking next to them, no doubt going through the rigmarole of the wedding proceedings. Stiles doesn't hear a single word of it, though, the entirety of his mind taken up by the looping thought of how fucking lucky he is to have Derek standing in front of him.

"Stiles?"

Feeling someone nudge his shoulder, Stiles tears his eyes away from Derek and realises that everyone is looking expectantly at him. "Uhh…what?"

"Your vows," Lydia says quietly from behind him. Stiles can hear the exasperation in her voice.

"Oh!" he gasps, turning back to Derek. "Sorry."

"S'alright," the alpha assures him, his eyes holding mirth now as well as affection.

Stiles racks his brain for the words he had painstakingly prepared months ago and curses himself when they don't come to him. "Shit."

"What is it?" Derek asks, concerned now. He takes Stiles' hands and squeezes.

"I can't remember them…" Stiles admits ashamedly, face growing hot.

"Would it help if I went first?"

Stiles sighs, relieved and grateful. "Please."

"Okay."

Derek doesn't release the younger man's hands as he readies himself. "We haven't always gotten along," he begins, not looking away from Stiles' eyes. "When we first met, I didn't like you and I'm pretty sure you didn't like me either. I felt I only had myself to rely on, but you stuck around and showed me that that wasn't true. You were a massive part of me accepting that I could let others in without getting hurt, and now I think you know me better than anyone else and I know I can rely and lean on you if I need to without you expecting anything in return. Even so, I promise to always do the same for you, to be what you need when you need it. I promise to always love you and support you in whatever you do, and I promise to stay by your side while you do it because there's no place else I'd rather be. You're the main reason my life is so good now, and I can't wait to face the rest of this journey together."

By the time Derek has finished speaking, it's so quiet in the backyard that Stiles is sure he could hear a pin drop, even on the grass. His cheeks are wet and he is pretty sure that he isn't the only one crying—in fact, a glance over Derek's shoulder reveals Cora wiping discreetly at her eyes. While he still can't remember it, Stiles knows that what he had prepared could never measure up to Derek's vows.

" _Derek_ wrote that?" Stiles can hear Scott whisper to Allison, breaking the silence.

"Shh," the huntress scolds. "It was beautiful."

"I know… That's why I'm so surprised."

Giving up trying to recall his own vows, Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat and wings it, speaking from the heart.

"I thought I knew what romantic love was before I met you. I'd seen it with my parents, but I don't think anything could have prepared me for how it actually is," he says, not even thinking about the words that leave his lips. "It's hard and can be painful sometimes, but it's so fucking worth it. We make each other happy, and I want to do everything in power to keep you happy for the rest of our lives."

It wasn't perfect or very eloquent, but Stiles thinks he did a good enough job of putting all of his feelings into words. Derek seems to think so as well, the alpha's eyes looking a little misty. Deaton continues the ceremony then, but Stiles again doesn't really pay attention until he is given that all-important question everyone already knows the answer to.

"Stiles, do you take Derek to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Deaton asks.

Stiles' response is a confident. "I do."

Satisfied, Deaton turns to Derek and asks him the same question: "And Derek, do you take Stiles to be _your_ lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," the alpha echoes.

Next, the rings are exchanged, which Scott and Isaac each happily give to the grooms. They're simple things, just two identical gold bands, but Stiles' sits comfortably over and still pairs so well with his engagement ring that he has a tough time looking away from it. In fact, he only manages to do so when he hears Deaton officially pronounce he and Derek as husbands and Derek tilts his chin up to kiss him. His eyes closing automatically, Stiles quickly loses himself in the kiss and the euphoric feeling that spreads through his veins, so much so that he barely hears the cheering that goes on around him from the rest of the pack. It isn't until Derek pulls away that he remembers they aren't alone and he ducks his head, blushing but unable to stop smiling.

Stiles and Derek are swiftly crushed in the centre of a giant collective hug, every member of the pack surrounding them and almost suffocating them in their excitement for the newlyweds. Even though it's difficult to breathe, Stiles doesn't try to break free or ask any of them to stop, and neither does Derek.

Soon, the pack disperses again and Stiles notices there is a one extra person than he was expecting there to be. He thought the guest list was limited to members of the pack, Melissa and Jordan Parrish, but standing a few feet away with an anxious smile on her face is a girl he last saw over four years ago and—although they'd kept in contact—he honestly thought he would never see again. The thought had made Stiles sad, so his already jubilant mood gets a little more so as he lets go of Derek's hand and rushes over to her to greet her.

"It's been so long!" he gasps into her hair.

"I know," the girl whispers, wrapping her slender arms around him as well.

The two stay there for a moment, and then Stiles pulls back to get a proper look at her. Her hair, which is pinned up at the back of her head, is still red, so she must have decided she liked the colour her mother made her dye it after she moved away to Canada. Like the other girls in the backyard, her sky-blue dress is long and flows around her feet. Her face is painted with minimal makeup, just mascara and a touch of pink lipstick.

"It's good to see you, Charlie," Stiles grins.

"You, too."

"I didn't know you were coming to this!"

"That was the whole point," Erica says, appearing next to Stiles.

"You're behind this then?" the male deduces, raising an eyebrow at the blonde.

"Yup. Consider it your wedding present from Boyd and me."

With that, Erica saunters off to find said tall beta and leaves Stiles with his surprise. He has only seen her again for a couple of minutes, but already he can tell that Charlie is in a much better place than when she left Beacon Hills, her posture and entire presence just more obviously relaxed.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," Charlie compliments, glancing at where Derek lingers a short distance away. "I'm glad Erica invited me. It's…it's okay that I came, right?"

"Of course. Today was already amazing, but this is just the icing on the cake," Stiles reassures. He turns to his new husband. "Husband! Come say hi!"

Derek walks over and offers Charlie a reserved, "Hello."

Stiles observes him and frowns, finding his reaction strange. "Hang on—you knew about this, didn't you?" he guesses, expertly reading the expression on his mate's face. He gasps dramatically when Derek nods his assent. "I knew it!"

"It's hard to keep secrets from a werewolf, Stiles," Derek says calmly. When Stiles harrumphs and pouts, he looks exasperatedly at the sky for a moment before placing a quick kiss on Stiles' cheek to placate him. "Come on. It's nearly time for the reception. You can catch up with Charlie then."

* * *

Later, when the sun has set and the backyard is illuminated by the fairy lights hanging above and around it, the reception is just beginning to wind down. Basically all of the delicious food the caterers had made is gone, the wolfsbane-laced alcohol Jackson and Danny had brought to the occasion is dwindling, and the wedding cake is now nothing but crumbs on plates, meaning that Stiles had somehow managed to underestimate his guests' appetites. Stiles sits in Derek's lap and is obviously tipsy, all the food in his stomach apparently not enough to soak up the alcohol he has drank to celebrate.

"I think you've had enough," Derek chuckles, stealing Stiles' flute of champagne from him.

"Hey! I wasn't done with that!" Stiles whines, turning away from Isaac and a highly amused Charlie.

"I'm not dealing with your hangover tomorrow."

"C'mon, this is a once-in-a-lifetime event!" Stiles defends, his voice slightly too loud as he paws at Derek's face. "We gotta make the most of it!"

Derek doesn't budge. "Nope."

When a passing Erica takes the flute from Derek, the case is closed and without any more drinks in the immediate vicinity, Stiles is forced to acquiesce. "Fine…" he sighs. "But you owe me one. A _big_ one."

"I'll make it up to you later."

Thanks to his inebriated state, Stiles' grin is more dopey than salacious. "Not what I meant when I said 'a big one', but I'll take it."

Isaac mutters, "Don't you usually?" so quietly that Stiles doesn't hear him.

Charlie snorts into her own drink and Derek ignores the beta entirely, choosing instead to look around and check in with everyone else. He sees that a lot of his pack have taken advantage of the festivities and sent their sobriety packing in a similar way to Stiles—even worse in the cases of Scott and Jackson, who are both slumped in their seats at either end of the table like they'll fall asleep at any second. Derek shakes his head and his eyes land on Lydia, who meets his gaze and taps her wrist with her fingers in a clear signal that time is ticking on.

Knowing right away what the banshee means, Derek picks Stiles up off his lap and sets him down on wobbly legs next to him.

"But I was so comfy," the human complains with a glare.

"It's time for us to get going, love," Derek explains patiently. He feels glad when realisation dawns on Stiles' florid face.

"Oh. Honeymoon. Right…"

"Yes, right."

Taking Stiles' hand, Derek leads him inside the house and upstairs to their bedroom. They change quickly out of their suits and into outfits better suited for a long car ride—jeans and a thick sweater for Stiles, and jeans and his most worn henley for Derek. Then they go back down to the foyer, where their suitcases are already waiting for them, both packed to bursting. He is aware of the pack and Charlie all following them and, after double-checking with Melissa and Parrish that they don't mind staying a while longer to take care of the cleanup with some of the others, he starts to say his goodbyes.

Minutes later, when it's done and he has been congratulated one last time by every member of his pack, Derek locates Stiles next to Charlie and goes to collect him because time really is pressing on and they have to get on the road.

"C'mon, we have to go now," he urges gently.

Stiles frowns, and while Derek knows the younger man is excited to spend two weeks of newly wedded bliss with him, he thinks he can still detect some reluctance on Stiles' part to leave just yet.

"But we've barely had time to catch up with each other properly," the human says, proving Derek right.

"She'll still be here when we get back, love," he soothes.

"She will?"

"Uh, yeah," Charlie confirms shyly. "I'm kinda, sorta…staying in Beacon Hills. Like, living here."

Stiles' eyes widen almost comically. "You are?"

"Yup. When you guys get back, I'm officially gonna be the newest member of the Hale pack. Even got Derek's seal of approval and everything."

After a moment spent processing this new information, Stiles nods slowly, hugs Charlie one last time and then marches to the front door, dragging a nonplussed Derek along with him. "Alrighty, Sourwolf, let's get this show on the road! Places to be, cabins to make cosy and a bed to break in by riding your brains out for being the best mate ever!" he yells as he releases Derek's hand, grabs his suitcase instead and flings open the front door, oblivious to how his words are received by the others still in the room.

A bit mortified in spite of this being far from the first time Stiles has shared more of their sex life with their pack than he'd like, Derek pointedly refuses to look at anyone else as he picks up his own suitcase and trails after his mate to his Camaro.

Before the door shuts after them, he hears Isaac say, "See? I told you he takes it."


	3. Honeymoon

_\- Monday, August 14th, 2017 -_

Stiles is dozing when he and Derek arrive at their destination. He wakes easily when the werewolf shakes him and peers sleepily out of the passenger window at their surroundings. It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, but when it does his mouth drops open. It's perfect, looks even better than it had on the website. The cabin appears every bit like a scene out of a stereotypical Christmas card, covered in snow high up on a mountain. At just one storey, its walls are built from huge logs and the roof stretches across a wide porch out front, complete with a porch swing. Around the side is a generator that is obviously quite old but well-maintained, next to which is a large pile of pre-cut logs of wood for the fireplace within.

"Wow…" Stiles breathes, fogging up the window.

Keeping his gaze on the building, he opens the passenger door and climbs out of Derek's Camaro. While Stiles is sure they would have enjoyed themselves either way—and even though he is already shivering—he is happy they decided to come to this secluded little slice of heaven instead of going somewhere warmer and more populated. There is a small town nearby, Stiles knows, from which they can get supplies and food whenever they run low. But apart from that, for two weeks it's just going to be him and Derek alone together in the cabin—a recipe for a wonderful time, in Stiles' opinion.

"You gonna help me or…?" Derek asks amusedly from the back of the car.

Pulled out of his staring by the question, Stiles squeaks out, "Oh, sorry!" and races around to the trunk to get his suitcase.

The interior of the cabin is dark and as cold as outside. Stiles lingers just inside the door with their luggage as Derek goes around the side to start up the generator and provide them with light. A few moments later he hears the loud whirring sound of the piece of machinery juddering to life, and then Derek is shouting at him to give the lights a try to see if it worked.

Stiles flicks on the switch that is right next to him and the main room of the cabin is illuminated. He knows there was little chance of it not working—the company they rented the place from was very highly rated—but he is still relieved. He shouts back to his husband that they're good to go, and then Derek reappears and shuts the door behind himself, enclosing them in their private sanctuary. It's still freezing, but in his arms Derek has a bundle of logs which he carries over to the fireplace to the left. While the alpha busies himself, Stiles wanders around the rest of the cabin and inspects everything.

The place is comprised of just three rooms.

The first is the biggest by a long shot, made up of several spaces in one. The living area starts with a red three-seater sofa with a chocolate-brown blanket draped over the back of it, in front of which is a sturdy wooden coffee table on top of a fluffy white rug and then the fireplace inside of which Derek is arranging logs. Above the fireplace is a decently sized flatscreen which is connected to the DVD player that rests on top of the mantle piece.

Next is a modest kitchen featuring a tall fridge/freezer combo and two rows of cupboards, one below a counter and the other high up on the wall, the tops touching the ceiling. In the middle of the counter is an oven with four burners. It is already stocked with everything but food.

And, finally, is a dining area, which is really just a rectangular table with four chairs tucked beneath it.

Elsewhere, Stiles walks into the bedroom and gawks at the queen-size bed that is made up with thick and soft-looking sheets the same colour as the sofa in the living area. There is an innumerable amount of pillows piled up at the head of the bed that Stiles wants to jump into like a child, but he manages to refrain. Only for now, though. Turning away from the bed, Stiles sees that the rest of the bedroom consists of a large dresser opposite the foot of the bed and a couple of padded armchairs facing each other in front of the window opposite the entrance.

Lastly is the en suite bathroom, which has a clawfoot bathtub on the left, a shower stall next to it and a sink and toilet on the right.

"This place is amazing," Stiles comments as he comes back out into the main area.

"You think I'd choose somewhere bad for our honeymoon?" Derek teases from where he stands, pressing some buttons on a small piece of electronics that is affixed to the wall near the front door. Stiles hadn't noticed it before.

"No," he replies.

"Relax, I'm only kidding." Derek presses one last button and steps away from the device, which Stiles now sees is a thermostat. "There we go. Should be warm enough now."

Stiles frowns. "Then what was the firewood for?"

"You'll see tomorrow," Derek promises. "C'mon, let's get to bed."

The suggestion of sleep makes Stiles realise how tired he still is. He feels reasonably sober again, but evidently his nap in the car on the drive up to the cabin wasn't enough to replenish his energy stores. Taking his suitcase from Derek when Derek picks both of them up and holds it out to him, Stiles trails behind the alpha back into the bedroom. They take turns washing up in the bathroom and then snuggle up together beneath the clean sheets, Derek's front to Stiles' back. The mattress is soft beneath them.

"We'll go into town tomorrow morning and get some supplies," Derek murmurs against the back of the younger man's neck. "Sound good?"

"Yup. Now shush, Sourwolf." Stiles pulls Derek's arm tighter around himself. "It's sleepy time."

The werewolf releases a soft puff of amusement through his nose. "Fine, fine…"

* * *

_\- Tuesday, August 15th, 2017 -_

After getting ready, Derek and Stiles are out of the cabin at just gone midday for their supply run, Stiles all bundled up in winter wear and Derek with just his leather jacket for additional warmth. The drive is short, not even five minutes, and then the couple are wandering down the street hand in hand in search of one of the town's few stores. There aren't many other people around and there isn't really much to see at all in terms of sights. It's a tiny place compared to Beacon Hills, maybe somewhere between twenty and thirty residential houses and a few shops and stores on what passes for a main street, so finding the right one isn't hard.

Simply dubbed Jim's General Goods, the store is made up of four small aisles and the register to the left of the entrance.

"Hello," the man behind the register says as Stiles and Derek enter. Presumably the one and only Jim, he looks to be somewhere in his fifties, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a moustache. His wrinkled face is curious, and while there is no animosity in them, his blue eyes are guarded. "Haven't seen you two in here before. You new round here?"

"Yeah," Stiles replies easily. "We're here for a couple of weeks and need supplies and stuff." He avoids saying exactly where they are staying. Just in case.

"Well you came to the right place. Name's Joe." The man holds out his hand.

Walking closer, Stiles shakes it, gives his name in return and jabs his thumb over his shoulder. "This is Derek."

"Nice to meet y'all."

A little reluctantly, Derek shakes Joe's hand as well before picking up a basket from the column next to the register. "I'm gonna get started."

Stiles smiles sweetly. "Sure thing, Sourwolf."

"So," Joe says once Derek has walked away, "are you two together or…?"

Unable to infer anything from the man's tone, Stiles is wary but gives him the benefit of the doubt for now. "We just got married yesterday, actually."

Joe blinks, surprised. "Oh, congrats, I guess. Don't take this the wrong way, but why are you here then?"

"We wanted to go somewhere out of the way, where it was just us." Stiles takes a KitKat bar from the small display next to him and puts it beside the register to be rung up with everything that Derek is getting from the other parts of the store. He also gets a Snickers, knowing it's Derek's favourite. "Plus the snow is a nice change of scenery. We don't see much of it where we're from."

"And that'd be where now?"

"Just elsewhere in California," Stiles says evasively.

"Don't wanna say?"

"Sorry, but I'd rather not."

"Smart. Don't worry; I get it," Joe accepts. "Well, this town ain't got much to offer in terms of tourist attractions or nothin', but it's quiet. Friendly."

"That's good to know, thank you."

"You're welcome. Let me know if you need help finding anythin'."

"Will do."

Turning away from Joe, Stiles spots the back of his mate's head on the other side of the store and makes his way over. The basket in Derek's right hand is already mostly full of various food products and personal hygiene and cleaning items, and in his left he reads from the small shopping list they had prepared before leaving the cabin.

"How's it going?" Stiles asks him, running his eyes over the selection of cereals in front of which they stand. He picks up a box each of Frosted Flakes and Lucky Charms and tucks them beneath his arm since both won't fit in the basket.

"Pretty good. I think I've got everything we need," Derek answers, not looking up from the small scrap of paper with the list on it.

Inspecting the contents of the basket more closely, Stiles' lips quirk upward when he sees that Derek has put in several tubes of lubricant even though they'd packed what Stiles had thought would be more than plenty in their suitcases. "Nice one," he comments, pointing to them. "Got plans there, do ya?"

"I did tell you I wasn't going to let you out of bed much."

"True."

Derek tucks the list into the pocket of his jacket. "S'there anything you want?"

"Nope, I think I'm good. Register?"

Nodding, Derek leads the way back to the front of the store. On the way they pass by a woman in her late twenties or early thirties who has a toddler wearing a red onesie held at her hip. She doesn't look up from the bottle of mouthwash she is examining, but the toddler—a boy with short black hair and the biggest brown eyes Stiles has ever seen—tracks Stiles' movements from over his mother's arm. The twenty-two-year-old makes a silly face at the toddler and grins when it elicits an adorable giggle from him which only gets a glance from his mother.

Continuing to the register, Stiles doesn't miss the way Derek subtly peers back over his shoulder at the kid with a strange expression on his face. It's gone before Stiles can decipher it, so he puts it out of his mind and just concentrates on bagging up their shopping in the paper bags Joe gives him.

"You two enjoy yourselves now," the man says a few minutes later, as Stiles and Derek are leaving the store. Stiles gives him a tentative thumbs up.

* * *

For most of the afternoon, once they had put away all of the shopping in the cupboards and the fridge/freezer, Stiles chose to spend most of the afternoon catching up on some of the books he had been too busy lately to check out properly. Halfway through the first book on Stiles' agenda, Derek had kissed the top of his head and told him he was going to go on a run so that he doesn't fall out of shape while they are there. The alpha was dressed in just a pair of warm running trousers and an old T-shirt that used to be black but is now grey, but Stiles hadn't worried. Derek's higher-than-normal body temperature would keep him warm enough.

Now, Stiles still sits snug in the thick brown blanket on the sofa, his current book open in his lap to one of the pages near the end.

This is his idea of heaven. The only thing that could make it better would be if he had Derek pressed up against his side, maybe reading a book of his own or maybe just sitting there contentedly running his fingers through Stiles' hair. Stiles feels a pang of longing for his mate, which part of him thinks is ridiculous because he saw him not even half an hour ago. The other part finds the feeling amazing, though, pleasantly surprised—or maybe not surprised at all—that, even after over five years together, just the thought of Derek still has that effect on him.

Refocusing on his book, Stiles again becomes almost completely engrossed in the story, which focuses on the investigation into the brutal murders perpetrated by a serial killer in a Texan town. He still hasn't been able to hazard a guess as to who the killer is, which is rare for him. He normally has no trouble, so he has to give kudos to the author.

Just as he finishes the penultimate chapter and the killer is revealed, he hears the cabin door bang open and startles.

"Jesus, you scared me!" he wheezes, pressing a hand to his chest as Derek steps inside.

Derek's face is sincere as he says sorry. He closes the door to keep out the frigid air from outside and pulls off his sweat-drenched T-shirt.

The display of skin instantly causing him to forgive his mate, Stiles shakes his head, his hand lowering to his lap as his heart rate gradually comes back down. "Nah, it's not your fault. I just got a little too into this book."

Speaking of the book, Stiles realises then that he is no longer holding it and—after managing to tear his eyes away from the half naked werewolf a few feet away from him—searches the space immediately around him. He locates it on the floor beneath the coffee table and picks it up, relief filling him when he sees that his dropping it didn't seem to damage it at all, not a page bent. Almost apologetically, he sets the book on the coffee table and gets up, divesting himself of his blanket as he goes.

"You hungry?" Stiles asks Derek on his way to the kitchen. "It's nearly time for dinner."

"I could definitely eat," the alpha responds, moving toward the bedroom.

"Worked up quite the appetite, huh?"

"Something like that."

"I'm on it."

Derek disappears from sight and Stiles opens the fridge and—because he doesn't feel like putting much effort into cooking in that moment—looks for something relatively easy to cook. He decides on chicken and rice with mixed vegetables, the ingredients for which he gets out and places on the side. He hums quietly to himself while it all cooks and listens to the sound of the shower in the other room. By the time the sound cuts off, the rice and vegetables have finished and he is just waiting on the chicken to be done.

A few minutes later, Derek reemerges from the bedroom in a pair of sweatpants, his hair still damn. He helpfully gets out a couple of plates and starts dishing up what's ready.

"Good shower?" Stiles asks, looking his mate up and down.

"Yup. This place has surprisingly good water pressure," Derek answers, his lips quirking upward.

"I'll have to test it out later."

"Maybe I'll help."

A thrill running through his body, Stiles smirks. "Maybe."

* * *

A few long hours later, Stiles lies catching his breath on the rug in front of the fireplace, the coffee table pushed out of the way. "So _this_ was why you got the firewood," he pants.

Derek, lying next to Stiles in a similar state, chuckles. "Yeah."

"Good plan. Very good plan."

"I'm glad you think so."

When breathing comes more easily, Stiles turns onto his side and leans up on his elbow so he can look down at Derek, whose head rests on the pillows they'd moved from the bed. The alpha stares back with a soft smile, completely relaxed, his tanned skin glowing brightly thanks to the warm light of the fire and the light sheen of sweat that covers his naked body, basically making the shower he had taken earlier a pointless endeavour. With his other hand Stiles traces patterns through the field of hair on Derek's chest. "So…what other ideas do you have floating around in that head of yours?" he enquires, genuinely curious.

"A few," Derek says vaguely, his smile turning into a smirk.

"Care to share with the class?"

"Nope. You'll just have to wait and see."

Stiles snorts. "I would say you're mean, but if your ideas are anything like what we just did, I'm looking forward to them."

"Let's just say there are many orgasms in your future."

"Aren't there usually?"

"Point, but we have no commitments right now."

"Sexathon, yeah, I got that from all the lube you bought today."

"Many, _many_ orgasms."

"Speaking of…" Stiles trails off, the hand he has on Derek's chest drifting lower.

"Got a plan of your own there, I take it?"

Stiles nods and pushes himself up so that he is sitting, seed from their first round leaking from his stretched hole. "I'm working on one," he confirms, his hand on Derek's stomach now. He pauses for a moment to circle his finger around the alpha's bellybutton before moving down through the line of fine hairs below it. Derek's cock, shiny with his own release, is soft now, the blood leaving it quickly after his knot had slipped out of Stiles' ass, but it twitches with interest as Stiles' fingers reach his pubes and card through them.

"Are you going to let me in on your plan?" Derek asks. He tucks his arms behind his head, apparently content to let Stiles do whatever he wants.

"I think it's only fair that I don't, seeing as you didn't let me in on yours."

"Touché."

A little less gracefully that he would like, Stiles slithers down Derek's body until he is lying prostrate between the alpha's legs. He pushes them further apart, leans on his left arm and rests his right hand on Derek's hipbone, his face hovering a few inches above his dick, which is beginning to harden again. Liking the fact that Derek is watching him, Stiles doesn't move or meet his eyes, instead keeping his gaze locked to the rapidly thickening arousal until it stands up proudly in the air, pre-come already leaking from the slit and the foreskin partially pulled back. Only then does Stiles flick his eyes up to Derek's.

The older man's lips are parted and his irises are a constant red, clear signs that he is painfully turned on already—as if Stiles needed further proof.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispers reverently. "I still can't believe I get to call you mine."

"Well believe it, 'cause that's what I am. Yours," Derek avows, removing his left hand from behind his head and drawing Stiles to look at where golden metal glints on his ring finger in the firelight. "You've got all the proof you need right here."

Stiles grins. "True, I've got that proof," he agrees, holding his right hand vertically and walking his index and middle fingers across the skin between Derek's hip and his cock. When his fingers reach their destination, he wraps them around the thick shaft and gives it a single stroke, the way already slicked from the remnants of the load currently still in Stiles' ass. "And I've got this proof, too."

Derek's hips buck up automatically, driving his cock into Stiles' fist again. "Stiles…" he groans, his eyes slipping closed as the younger man continues to stroke him. "Please."

"Patience, Sourwolf," Stiles murmurs, watching Derek writhe in front of him like he is the finest work of art. He thinks he must be, but he is a little biased. Every dip and plane of muscle and tanned skin on display before him he catalogues like he hasn't already done it a thousand times before, maybe even a million. The vision his mate makes never gets old to him and never will. "Don't worry, we'll get there, so just lie back, relax, and let me do to you what I wanna do, okay? Think you can do that for me?"

"O-okay!" Derek gasps, planting his feet on the floor, his bent knees on either side of Stiles' head.

Stiles grins. "That's better."

Shuffling forward so that he doesn't have to hold himself up anymore and has both hands free, he circles Derek's cock around the base and pulls the skin up slightly so that the head disappears entirely in the foreskin. With the fingers of his other hand he circles the folds of wet skin before dipping one beneath it to rub at the spongy head, eliciting a whine of pleasure from Derek. After circling it around a couple of times, Stiles extracts his finger and sucks it into his mouth, giving himself a little preview of the bitter taste of his mate's pre-come.

When that is gone, Stiles pulls Derek's foreskin back all the way, bends over and seals his lips around the head, his tongue swiping a couple of times over the burbling slit to get that addictive taste straight from the source. Derek bucks his hips up again then, trying to get further inside the warmth of Stiles' mouth, but Stiles isn't having that.

He presses his palms flat to the top of the alpha's muscular, hairy thighs and holds him down, much to Derek's frustration. He knows very well that, if he really wanted to, Derek could push up anyway using his enhanced werewolf strength, but Stiles is pleased when he sucks on the head of Derek's cock like a lollipop and the older man's hips stay down. As a reward of sorts, he begins bobbing his head up and down, his tongue wiggling against the underside of the shaft so that the nerves just beneath the head are stimulated every time he moves up.

"Stiles," Derek whimpers, his hands moving from beneath his head to grasp at the rug beneath him.

Ignoring the plaintive sound, Stiles doesn't suck Derek off any faster. Now that he is sure the man won't try to fuck his mouth again, he releases his thighs and cups Derek's balls with one hand, rolling them, feeling their heavy weight. It's like they're still full even though they pumped out a load not fifteen minutes ago. The skin is slightly damp with sweat. With his other hand, Stiles reaches behind himself and shoves a couple of fingers unceremoniously inside of his own hole to get them wet. There's more than enough come left in him to do the job, and once he is sure he has enough he creeps them into the shadowy space beneath Derek's balls, across the perineum and even further, searching for Derek tight little asshole.

When the wolf's legs part even wider to give him better access, Stiles finds the furled muscle and circles it with his fingers, getting it nice and slick before slowly sliding one inside a knuckle at a time. To Stiles, there's something filthy about using Derek's own come to finger his ass. He thrusts slowly in and out a couple of times to help his mate get used to the feeling and then, when Derek relaxes around him, he adds a second finger and strokes along his inner walls, amazed by their softness and heat. All the while, he keeps sucking Derek's cock and fondling his balls, providing three different types of stimulation at the same time.

Derek doesn't seem to know what to do with himself. His hands clench and unclench reflexively in the rug and his head tosses on the pillow it rests upon. Stiles watches Derek shut his eyes tight and part his mouth as he pants out his pleasure, his hairy, sweat-slicked chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

After a few minutes of this, Stiles finally takes pity on his mate.

He stops all of his ministrations at once, and before Derek can complain he is crawling forward on his hands and knees until he straddles the alpha's hips, that huge cock slotting easily between his cheeks. Placing his hands on the pillow either side of Derek's head, he leans down and brushes their lips together, only to pull away again when Derek tries to get a proper kiss out of him.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Stiles scolds teasingly, wagging an index finger. "You're supposed to lie back and let me do what I want, remember?"

Derek huffs, his complexion florid. "Fine."

To test that his mate will behave, Stiles tries again, touching their lips together lightly. He is happy when Derek does nothing, so he kisses him a little bit harder, turning his head to the side and licking at his mouth. Derek's lips part immediately and Stiles is allowed inside, something he takes full advantage of. He slides his tongue into the older man's mouth and tastes him, also providing Derek with a taste of himself. Stiles is content to just kiss for a while, until he feels Derek's hands come to rest on his waist.

"Still impatient, huh?" he asks, sharing the same air with his mate.

"Can you blame me? You're just the same whenever I'm on top of you," Derek points out, looking up into Stiles' whiskey eyes.

"True."

Sitting up properly, Stiles grinds back against Derek's cock and grins when the wolf's hips twitch beneath him, Derek obviously just barely resisting fucking up to get more of that feeling.

Desperate to be filled again, Stiles brings the foreplay to an end by blindly grasping Derek's cock and rising up onto his knees so that he can position the head against his sloppy hole. He waits until Derek looks up into his eyes to start sinking down. He uses every ounce of strength he has in the muscles of his legs to make it slow, revelling in the rapturous expression that forms on Derek's face as inch by inch his thick 9-inch cock is encased in wet, searing heat, sinking home. It's easy thanks to Derek's first load slicking the way, dripping out of him.

When finally he is fully seated, Stiles wiggles in place and delights in the fullness, the scratch of Derek's pubic hair against his perineum. Splaying his hands on Derek's chest, one on each taut pec, he smirks down at him as he starts moving his hips in small circles, Derek's length only leaving his body about half an inch with every undulation.

He bites his bottom lip when this makes it rub right up against his prostate.

For a long time he rides his mate as languorously as he pleases, gradually raising himself further off of Derek's marvellous cock before pushing himself back down, everything kept slow. Derek's head is tilted back, his eyes shut again and his neck bared as Stiles continues to watch him, observing every minute reaction he gets. He can elicit different ones depending on the way he moves—like if he moves his hips back a little bit when he sinks down, a little crease with form between Derek's eyebrows; and if he squeezes his inner muscles when he rises up again, the tendons in Derek's neck stand out a little more.

The alpha's fingers dig into Stiles' hips to the point where it's almost painful, the sharpness Stiles feels letting him know that Derek isn't far off from wolfing out. He wants to get him there before things end, so he redoubles is efforts. He starts moving up and down faster in Derek's lap, with more abandon, his renewed erection slapping against his abs. At the sudden change of pace Derek cracks open his eyes and stares up at Stiles, the lust in them undeniable.

Stiles was never that confident in himself before he and Derek were together, years of being shunned by the majority of the other students at Beacon Hills High School doing nothing good for his self-esteem. But in recent years, especially after he went to college, Stiles' confidence has grown in leaps and bounds. He stares back at Derek with a smirk, knowing that he looks _good_.

"I'm close," Derek grits out a few minutes later, his hands leaving Stiles' hips so that his claws dig into the rug and not the younger man's skin.

"Gonna fill me up again?" Stiles pants, sweat dripping off of him.

"Yeah…"

It's then that Stiles detects it, the knot at the base of Derek's cock. Each time he sinks down to the hilt it feels progressively bigger, gets harder to take in. His ass is up for the job, though, already stretched out from taking that massive bulb of flesh once that evening. Stiles is an old hat at it by now, at judging the perfect time to stop moving and let Derek's knot inflate the rest of the way safely inside his ass.

"God, how do you always feel this amazing?" he sighs, enjoying the fullness, the way the knot presses right up against his prostate without either of them having to do anything.

"I could ask you the same thing," Derek growls, his beta form overtaking him. The sides of his face get hairier and his brow becomes heavy and smooth, his teeth turning into fangs and his nails lengthening into deadly claws as Stiles squeezes him like a vice. Stiles watches it all happen and is delighted to have accomplished his goal. He wraps his right hand around his cock and jerks himself off hard and fast, not caring about putting on a show anymore.

He wants them to come at the same time, and he gets his wish.

Just as his second orgasm crests, Derek roars and his huge cock jerks inside Stiles, shooting thick, creamy jizz deep into his guts. It makes Stiles' orgasm more intense, and when it ends he barely stops himself from falling forward and bashing their foreheads together. He just about manages to hold himself up, his short nails creating tiny red crescent shapes in Derek's chest. His breaths are quick as he comes down, as his stomach is made to feel heavy with seed, distending like he is pregnant. It shouldn't be an arousing sight, but his half-hard cock still gives a valiant twitch that mercifully goes nowhere—he doesn't think he could come a third time, at least not without a more substantial break.

The two mates stay in that position for a while, until Stiles' legs cramp up and he has to stretch them out, his calves laying across Derek's shoulders. Even though he is still coming sluggishly, Derek possesses enough wherewithal to move as well, drawing his legs together and bending them so that Stiles can lean back against his thighs.

"That was amazing," he says, his shift receding and his eyes returning to their natural hazel.

Stiles smiles lazily. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, because that was exhausting."

Derek makes a sympathetic noise. "We'll get cleaned up and get some sleep when my knot goes down."

"Post-coital cuddles on the menu?"

"Aren't they always?"

Stiles chuckles. "Just making sure, Sourwolf."

Half an hour later, when the fire has been put out and the sweat and come has been cleaned from their bodies, Stiles is pleased when Derek makes good on his promise, shuffling up close behind him, wrapping him up in his arms and snuggling together beneath the sheets. Sleep comes easily for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the smut. :P Stay tuned for Chapter 4, in which Stiles and Derek return home and an old friend of Derek's gets in touch, finally beginning the real meat of this story... ;)
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. I've got some good stuff planned. And feel free to check out my past fics if you haven't already.**


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